I mean, it's bicycle culture, right? And what is a culture comprised of but many different elements?
Kristen over there is really into classic cinema, horticulture, politics, Owen Wilson, and bicycles, while William on the other hand is all about screen printing, photography, baking, reality television shows and bicycles.

Maybe they would have something to talk about should they ever cross paths, but unbeknownst to them, week after week they meet up here, and find common ground.
Sure, bicycles are awesome, but I think that what makes the world go around is variety.

For those of you who do wish for me to stick to bikes, it ain't gonna happen, but lucky for you, the internet is an easily available universe with all of the unadulterated bike nerdery you could ever hope to shake a unidimensional stick at, and it's just one click away.

For the rest of you I offer up all that I am, with little fear of judgment.

Speaking of no fear of judgment, Snake Hawk, who is the president of the he-man, ass kickers club sent an email that had me crying like a baby;

"When I saw this today, mind you, on Drunkcyclist, I was not prepared. I was thinking it would be some sort of video about how to be a MAN, or some kind of super ultra MAN sort of advice or inspiration, because that's exclusively what I find on DC. Well, lo and behold, I was kicked squarely in my estrogen gland, and boy did it secrete. It was like driving over a ketchup packet. I started sobbing and reaching for kleenex in the way that I normally reach for my steak knife, shoe shine, or bullwhip. I was all asob (made that word up), and had to just pack it in for the afternoon. Emotions must be dealt with immediately or they will turn into big spiritual pimples and when you finally pop them, you will make a very big scene, and a painful mess right in the middle of your girlfriend's birthday dinner.

god dammit,
hawk."

That was such a compelling story that the Whitney Houston song almost didn't make me want to kill myself.
And yes, I too got a little teary eyed, but had to excuse myself because I can't show any sort of emotion in front of The Skipper, or he will strike me down where I stand.

George is another example of an individual of who is proficient at living all things 'everything';

"good evening Sir,

Attached within this email you will find some pictures explaining nothing other than a good time being had by all parties.

I rode my bike twice this week outside on snow/ice and a good amount of pavement in order to prep for the ole pueblo 24 plus I drank beer and tried to skate in the garage. We have been doing a lot of snow shredding too.

only 3 months till we're riding on dirt here; let the countdown begin.

also, Rain From The Sky sent this link which you may be into even though you retired from it!

Bacon. The hot accessory!

rock out this weekend!
g"

That last link reminded me that on Wednesday I spoke with John from Stroker Ace Screen printing and he asked me if I had any new shirt ideas. I said "Why yes. I'd like a shirt that says 'bacon tastes better with porn'."
Seriously, this stuff just comes to me.

We'll see if he can fit it in with his production schedule.

Have you all picked up your subscription to Bike Monkey yet?

You should cause it's awesome.

You know what else I recently decided was awesome?
Kiefer Sutherland.

The Likable Douchebag emailed me to lay a shout out up for his homie;

"My Brotha,
My baby girl, Ashley, has launched her new web site for her company Outlaw Earth. There’s a great story here, as she was about to lose her job at Circuit City she started this bag company and things just started working out. Give her a shout out if you’re feeling it.
CQ"

To be clear, Ashley is not actually a baby, nor is she a product of the douchebag's loins. She is a grown up with a fine taste in bag design and apparently if she really does know Cary, crappy taste in friends.

Moving on... Wednesday has come and gone and regardless of the threatening tone I laid out in an email to the usual suspects, initially the only player in this week's performance was 6'7" who showed up at the warehouse totally ready to go, with the exception of the fact that he didn't have lights, shoes or a dirt worthy bike. Never one to back down from a challenge though, he stuck to his guns, no matter how ill equipped they were.
It was a clear night, and the temperatures were balmy as we made our way to the gates, only to be met by Mr. Gill, and The Stick;

There we ate popcorn, drank beer, watched the stars rise, and took note as the temperatures dropped.
Conversation flowed into the night as we all parted ways to get to our respective warm spots.
As 6'7" and I descended, and slowly made our way through a small herd of deer, I heard him say something about the incredible night under a blanket of stars....

His poetic waxing was cut short and when I turned around he was gone. Retracing my tracks, I found him laying on the ground, knees bent, looking at the sky.
He began "... I think... my pump... went in... to my wheel...."

I turned my light to his bike and noted not that the pump was in the wheel, but rather the front fender had somehow doubled up on itself, stopping his wheel cold, sending every inch of himself crashing to the ground.

As if that particular insult wasn't enough, the added injury was the double pinch flat that occurred, presumably when the rear wheel came crashing down on the back of his skull.

Heres to you buddy. No matter how crappy the luck, you always commit to the crime.

Now we're gonna get into some news for yous to use;

The FedEx delivery guy came armed to the teeth yesterday with brim filled boxes of the new Cog photo annual;

At some point in the very near future we will have these available on the Swobo site, and as soon as I know anything more, I will blow it up here.
Secondarily, aside from the 40 virgins awaiting my arrival to Heaven, one of the other perks of being an industry luminary such as myself is being first in line for items such as this;

Those people at Cog take good care of me.

And me? In turn, I try to take care of you. Something I had attempted to remember last October after my trip to New York was to mention conversation after conversation I had with people when they learned I hailed from Northern California. "Ooooohhh.." they would start- "the thing that I love the most about the Bay Area is the Mexican food..."
Time and time again it was mentioned to me that despite all of the amazingness that New York City has to offer, as it turns out, it lacks in the Mexican food department.

Well my friends to the East, look no further because Florencia 13 NYC has arrived to save the day. I believe it was Florencia 13's Lennard that I spent some time with when I was there, and besides being a swell individual, he knows his Mexican food, so when you go there, tell them that Stevil sent you, and I promise that they most likely will have no idea what you're talking about.

Finally, we'll finish up with an email from one of our very own foot soldiers, Eric;

"Hey Stevil, or the person running this killer spot. You’ve featured me before as Omaha’s only bike messenger and an errant snapshot during last year’s trans iowa. But I decided it wasn’t about me anymore, about riding hard pissing off cars, or showing up at club rides and road races clad in black just to disrupt their ebb and flow. I have a strong desire to change Omaha Nebraska. We have made some good strides with activate Omaha, Bikes Belong and press from our local paper. But why settle?

We need culture, we need folks riding stoopid, riding for beer, riding to the grocery store or to a flik. But that is so unheard of here you're seen as a crazy bum who needs to grow up and get a car. So this is my crazy (ha) dream, and if it can happen everywhere else in America, why not here, why not now?

I’ve got to do real work now so this won’t be the last pice of propaganda from me. You were an inspiration to me, and I thank you for that.

-Eric Brunt"

Firstly, the photo of Eric mugging for the lens was shot by the esteemed Lucas Marshall, and secondly, thank you for the thank you, but as I previously stated, this isn't just a culture, but it's our culture. It's ours to shape and mold in any form we'd like it to take.
Everyone who tunes in here is admirably doing their part, just as I am attempting to do mine, and for that I'm damn proud of us all.

I'll keep fighting the good fight under the condition that you all promise to do the same.

As it happens every week like clock work, Friday is upon us, rearing its lovely head as it precedes to fill our proverbial tanks and prepare us for another week of battle.

No one knows what goodness is ahead for us, but it doesn't matter because it's ours to do with as we please.

On that note, lets hitch up our pants, and get the hell out of here.
Radness awaits.